Secrets
by seemeinacrown
Summary: Every newsie has at least one secret, or maybe a little story to share. Let's see what they are, then, eh?


**Author's Note: Ok, so I found this whilst cleaning through my computer files (I seem to be finding a lot of stories this way…). Anyway, I apologize for any bad grammar; mostly it's because, you know, it's supposed to be from Jack's point of view and he's just Jack. It may also be partially due to the fact that I wrote this a few years ago…All that aside, enjoy! I plan on adding more to this, but I'll see how it goes. A review would make me love you forever. :)**

** Disclaimer: I would complain that I don't own this movie or its characters, but since all the actors are now forty year old men, you know, I think I'm ok with it. **

Jack's Secret

All right, so if you've ever talked to the newsies about me, since the strike, you'd know what my most important secret was: that my parents ain't down in Santa Fe, that my mom's dead and my dad's in jail. But nobody knows how my mother died, or why my dad's in jail, so that's why I'm telling you about this. Someone needs to know the story of my secret.

So, first of all, I'll tell you about how my mother died, since that happened first. It's not much of an interesting story, really. I mean, I was near 5 years old when it happened, so I can't even tell you much. But what I'm trying to say is that it wasn't one of those interesting deaths, you know, where she gets shot, or beat, or gets pushed off a building or gets trampled by a horse. Nah, she just died of getting sick or something. I don't really know; they didn't tell me much, and no one bothered to tell me any more once I was grown up. So that's about it.

They all said she was real beautiful; she had thin blonde hair, and sparkling green eyes, and the palest skin you'd ever find. And she was tall, they said too. Everybody also says that I look nothing like my mother; all I got was her green eyes. And I believe them. I've stood in front of a mirror with my father, and we look exactly alike. It's scary, somehow.

Now I'll tell you about how my father got put in jail. Not a pretty story, I got to say. So, my dad was a heavy drinker, and he liked to gamble a lot. Everyone says that he was always like that, it wasn't like when your wife dies and you get all bad; that was all just natural for him. Yeah, he's a great gambler; even better than Racetrack, I think, but I wouldn't ever tell nobody that. And even though he was drunk a lot, and went to a lot of bars, he was nice. He never hit me, not that I can remember. He always talked to me when he could think straight, and wanted to make sure I could have a good future, get a good job, have a good family. And one thing he told me, almost every day, was to not be like him, not to gamble and drink all the time. I love my father lots, more than anybody in the world, except maybe Sarah.

Anyway, so like I said, my father (his name was Joshua Sullivan, by the way) was a big-time gambler. So once, he cheated real bad on this one game of poker or something. He'd never really cheated before, but this time he was really drunk and desperate, so he cheated. And this other guy figured out he did, and they got in this big fight; from what I heard, they about tore down the bar they were in. So the police got called in, and arrested him. Later I heard that he'd accidentally killed the man he'd fought with.

I was about ten when all that happened, so I don't remember too much about what went on in the courts and all. All I remember is that one night I just couldn't take it no longer, so I ran away. It was in the middle of the night, too, when I ran out, and since I was just a kid, I had no idea where to go. I think I just ran, really far away from where all that legal stuff was going on. Finally, I stopped inside this alley to rest, and no more than two seconds later shows up this tall, teenager-looking guy.

He looked all strange at me, then said, "What's wrong kid, youse run away?" I think I'd started crying by then, cause I didn't know what to do, and I just nodded at him. Then he came over and grabbed my shoulder to pull me up. "Tell youse what, kid," he said, "youse can come be a newsie wit me an' all the other boys, how's that?" Right then, that sounded great to me, so I walked back to the lodging house with him, and he sat me down on the stairs while he went and got Kloppman, and I was so tired I fell asleep then, right on the stairs.

So that's what all got me where I am today. I've been living with these newsies seven years now, and I've loved almost every minute of it. I still miss my dad sometimes, when I'm lying awake and thinking about him, but the last time I saw him was so long ago I can hardly remember what he looked like. That is, until I can see my reflection.

You might be wondering where I got the whole Santa Fe thing, and to be honest, I don't know. Once I just saw this little comic thing with this cowboy on it, and I decided that's what I wanted to be. I stole it off the little rack and ran away, and I've carried it around with me ever since. One day I'm going to get out of this big city and ride down to Santa Fe, and I'm going to start my life over, and have lots of money and a nice house, and a good job like my father wanted me to have. And I won't drink or gamble, like he told me to. I promised I never would, and I don't break my promises, never.


End file.
